


Orientation

by MrProphet



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	Orientation

The Major inspected Thomas Fairley’s papers with a disinterested eye; far more of his scrutiny was reserved for the young man himself. “It says on your pass that you volunteered for the Scouts,” he noted at last.

“Yes, Sir,” Fairley replied.

Major Gorby scratched his ragged beard. Although it was hardly Fairley’s place to judge a superior officer, Gorby was not what he expected of an officer. He was tall and stocky and his rumpled uniform was stained with what looked like rust. His hair, like his beard, was unkempt. Instead of a standard officer’s sabre he wore a longsword with a hilt made from what appeared to be a shinbone crudely wrapped in rawhide.

Fairley, on the other hand, looked like he had just stepped down from one of the recruiting posters which hung in most of Ancelstierre’s larger towns and cities. His uniform was crisp and immaculate, his chin clean shaved and his moustaches trimmed. His sabre was standard pattern blade with a hilt made to fit his hand.

“Lieutenant; what exactly do you think we do in the Northern Perimeter Reconnaissance Unit?” Gorby asked.

“Well, Sir… protect the border against incursions from the Old Kingdom.”

“Yes; and what  _form_  do you think those incursions may take?”

Fairley shifted back and forth uncomfortably. “Sir?”

“What do you expect to face in you time with the Scouts?” Gorby pressed. “What sort of challenges do you anticipate encountering?”

“Well… refugees, of course. And, um, terrorists?”

“Ah, yes,” Gorby agreed. “Like those terrorists at Forwin Mill?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Gorby shook his head slowly. “Did no-one speak to you when you asked to join us?”

Fairley chuckled. “Well, they did have a bit of a joke with me, Sir.”

“Do share,” Gorby prompted.

“Well, Sir; they said that the Crossing Point Scouts train their officers to use, well, magic; and wear chainmail and carry magic swords; and that you… that we guard the border against vampires and zombies and monsters,” Fairley admitted. “All quite ridiculous.”

“Quite,” Gorby agreed. “It would be sheer lunacy to limit magical training to officers.”

“Um… Sir?”

“Sergeant-Major Hobbs!” Gorby barked. “Get Lieutenant Fairley fitted for his chainmail,” he ordered. “Good with a sword?”

“I… Top of my class, Sir.”

“Good! Hobbs; give Lieutenant Fairley Captain Arkwright’s sword and start him training with a straight blade.”

Fairley was baffled. “But… I’ve got a sword.”

Gorby drew the sword from his hip. The blade was dull grey, closer to the colour of slate than of steel, with weird symbols shifting under the surface of the metal. “Arkwright’s sword is Charter Marked,” he explained. “You’ll need that.”

“And why doesn’t Captain Arkwright need it?”

“He was killed,” Gorby replied. “By a vampire. Sergeant-Major Hobbs will get you Marked and start your training in Charter Magic.”

“Sir…”

“You’ll get used to it,” Gorby assured him. “If you survive.”


End file.
